Nostalgia
by Thesilverlaurel
Summary: Germany and Italy experience a wave of nostalgia while cleaning out their closet, and their past is revealed to one another. WARNINGS: Japanese/Italian/German words and phrases used, with translations at the end. Spoilers for AP episode 22.


There comes a time when every man has to clean out his closet. America has, and so have several others, but now it's the turn of a certain much-loved trio.

"Itaria-sama," Japan calls from the corner, "Why do you have bloomers?" he holds the offending item by his thumb and forefinger.

"Ehi, Giappone, you found it!" Italy dashes over the uniformed man, and takes up the bloomers and the box they'd been pulled from.

"Itaria-sama…" Japan repeats, speaking slowly, cautiously, "Why do you have a little girl's maid outfit?"

"It's mine!"

Japan turns visibly paler, as Italy's grin grows wider. "When I worked for Austria, I was very little, and Austria gave me a dress to wear."

"Oh…" Japan nods politely, then goes back to searching through boxes. Germany is in the opposite corner, and hasn't said a word. He already knows about Italy's childhood.

Italy puts the old outfit down, and takes up the bonnet. He fastens it to his head, just like he had done as a child, and laughs, "Ehi, this brings back memories!"

"It does?" Japan asks. He's never thought of Italy as nostalgic.

"Sì! It reminds me of Austria, and Ungheria, and Sacro Romano Impero," Italy sighs, and idly toys with the dress between his fingers. "I miss Sacro Romano Impero sometimes."

Germany looks across, puts down the canvas between his hand and strolls over.

"What happened to him?" Japan asks gently.

"Nessuno lo sa! No one knows!"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"He had to leave…" Italy sits upright, and clutches the old dress to him, "He had to leave, so I could feel at ease… that's what he said. He'd wanted me to become the new Romano Impero with him, but I was scared. Becoming too big, and too powerful, was what killed my nonno Roma, and covered his body in painful scars. Before he left, I gave him my push broom…"

"A push broom?" Japan interrupts, "Why a push broom?"

"Don't be so out of character, Japan!" Germany taps the Asian man's shoulder.

"It's okay, Germania. I gave him my push broom, because I was always sweeping. It was a gift; a small piece of me, and he accepted my feelings. In return, he gave me something that would be given in Italia, in my home-country. He gave me a kiss."

The trio sit in a comforting silence, as Italy cries twinkling tears of nostalgia.

* * *

"I'll go make some food," Italy stands, "Ehi, I sure am hungry. I'll make pasta, we all like pasta. Pasta!" and with that, he scurries off, dropping the dress, the bonnet still tied to his head.

Germany folds up the dress, and puts it gently back in the box. Something about the procedure unnerves Japan; the way he gently folds the skirt and apron together, the way the softly strokes the faded fabric, the way he warily lowers the parcel into the box.

"Doitsu-sama, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Japan. Italien isn't the only one to be hit by nostalgia."

The silence becomes uncomfortable as Germany heads back to his corner.

"I've heard about Shinsei rōma teikoku," Japan babbles, "He threw himself into a long, long battle. No one is sure where he went."

"Nein, sie sind nicht."

"I've heard he was good-looking. Blonde, blue eyes, had a confident and powerful stance, even at a young age."

"Ja."

"He wore black, apparently. A black hat and cape, with a white ruffle. I don't think I'd want to meet him. He sounds scary."

"Ja."

"Doitsu-sama…" Japan turns around, and never finishes his sentence.

Germany is stood, facing the wall, shoulders slumped. Across said shoulders, a black cape hangs down, only reaching to his hips. Atop his slicked-back blonde hair, a black hat sits. As he turns to face his Asian brother, a white ruffle becomes visible where his tie should be.

"I'm going to sweep the porch," Germany says softly, and steps away, grabbing something from behind a cabinet. As he passes Japan, Japan scans the old push broom, and sends Germany a soft, understanding smile.

* * *

"Ehi, Giappone, where's Germania gone?"

"He's sweeping the porch."

"But he did that this morning."

"He's doing it again."

"Perché?"

"I don't know, Itaria-sama."

"I'm going to go take him some pasta."

"Nō! I mean… he's had a hit of nostalgia, like you, and he's feeling a little depressed. I think we should leave him alone for now, Ōkē?"

"Va bene, Giappone," Italy puts his pasta down, and quietly walks out.

* * *

"Germania!"

Germany's head whips around at the voice, and he hurriedly takes off the ruffle, hat and cloak, hiding them behind a tree with the push mop.

"Italien," Germany nods in greeting, "What are you doing out here?"

"I was looking for you. Giappone said that you were feeling sad, so I came to find you, so you wouldn't be lonely."

"Ah. Danke."

"Non è niente."

The duo sits themselves on a bench, and gaze upwards at the sky.

"Ehi, Germania, have you ever been kissed?"

"Ja… she was a maid."

"A maid? Was she pretty."

A pause. "Ja. She was very pretty. I've liked her since the tenth century. Aber… I had to leave her."

"Germania… Is this true?"

"I'm not lying. Do you think I'm lying?"

Italy rests his head on Germany's shoulder. "Just before Sacro Romano Impero left, I said I'd wait for him. He promised we'd see each other again. So… no, Germania. I don't think you're lying."

Germany stifles a gasp, as he looks down at the bonneted man. "Y-you mean…"

"You still have that painting," Italy leans back. "I never saw what you painted, but you still have it. You were looking at it when Giappone found my old uniform."

"Ja… was that how you worked it out?"

"Sì. You've changed. You're bigger now. But you're still blonde, with blue eyes, and you're still disciplined."

"You've changed too. When we were little, I thought you were a girl. Then when I found you in the tomato box, it felt like my whole life had been a lie. But then I realised; you're still Italien, whether I know you're male or think you're female. And… you stayed with me, even after the war." Germany wraps his arms around Italy, and hold him close, his cheek pressing into the bonnet. "Danke, Italien. Danke für alles."

"Non è niente."

Italy stands, and takes Germany's hand in his. In their minds, the blue uniforms fade away, to be replaced by a green maid's dress, and a long black cape.

Germany leans close to Italy, and says softly, "No matter of the many years that have passed, I love you the most in the world."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I apologise for any language mistakes; I used Google Translate. If there are any corrections needed, please PM me, explaining the change. Translations, in chronological order, are as follows;  
**

**Ehi; Italian for 'Hey'  
****Ungheria; Italian for 'Hungary'  
****Sacro Romano Impero; Italian for 'Holy Roman Empire'  
****Nessuno lo sa; Italian for 'No one knows'  
****nonno Roma; Italian for 'Grandpa Rome'  
****Doitsu; Japanese for 'Germany'  
****Shinsei rōma teikoku; Japanese for 'Holy Roman Empire'  
****Nein, sie sind nicht; German for 'No, they're not'  
****Perché; Italian for 'Why'  
****Va bene; Italien for 'Okay'  
****Danke; German for 'Thanks'  
****Non è niente; Italian for 'It's nothing'  
****Aber; German for 'But'  
****Danke für alles; German for 'Thanks for everything'**

**The end quote is based on HRE's final words to Chibitalia; "No matter how many years pass, I love you the most in this world." (Note that there are variations in translations)**

**This was supposed to be fluffy. I don't know what the hell this is.  
****-Laurel Silver**


End file.
